


Oh Lord

by DenimPants



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenimPants/pseuds/DenimPants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, it might not be official, but I ship Alex Denvers and Maxwell Lord so hard. I think, for the most part, Supergirl the TV show is too over-the top women-power. And way too often have these characters with amazing on screen chemistry interact and be amazing for all of like, half an episode; then goes ahead and forces a romance where there just isn’t one. <br/>Like, don’t get me wrong, the very concept of Jimmy and Kara is adorable AF, but her chemistry with Adam Foster was (Understandably) electric. And then Max with Cat? They have about as much spark as a rubberband. <br/>Anyway. I have a collection of smut I had to get off of my chest. Here’s to hoping Alex and Max get some action in the end.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Oh Lord

**Author's Note:**

> So, it might not be official, but I ship Alex Denvers and Maxwell Lord so hard. I think, for the most part, Supergirl the TV show is too over-the top women-power. And way too often have these characters with amazing on screen chemistry interact and be amazing for all of like, half an episode; then goes ahead and forces a romance where there just isn’t one.   
> Like, don’t get me wrong, the very concept of Jimmy and Kara is adorable AF, but her chemistry with Adam Foster was (Understandably) electric. And then Max with Cat? They have about as much spark as a rubberband.   
> Anyway. I have a collection of smut I had to get off of my chest. Here’s to hoping Alex and Max get some action in the end.

## Issue 1: The Apokolips Affair.

Alex always hated to admit when she found someone attractive. Usually because it came with some kind of reprimand, or judgment, or getting thrown into the bathroom while her mother played bad cop on whatever high school boy had his pants around his knees. 

She knew how to pick them and she liked them dark and bad. 

Robbie, in high school, smoked and had a friend who worked at the local ABC so there was always booze. All of the bad boy flings in undergraduate, way too many to count. Derek at the academy, who was way too smart for his own good and failed out of police training because of his attitude. 

And Maxwell Lord. _Narcissist, egomaniac, asshole, Mr. smug-pants…_

No, it wasn't like she wanted him in any way other than wringing the air out of his trachea; but she was willing to admit when a nice hunk of man meat was dangled in front of her face.  She'd just as happily stuff and mount him with glass eyes and rest him at her front door. She could walk in and hang hats on him.

Maybe not glass eyes, his eyes were begrudgingly soulful that it would be a waste to replace them with marbles.

She remembers most faces well, but somehow Lord (with his distinguished brows, broad custom suited shoulders, unforgiving jawline and more-telling-than-he-wished furrows) seem to all linger in her mind. Especially now, when she was in the midst of searching for her dad. 

Maybe because they were both brunettes and of the geek society.

_That was a stretch._ And really, an unwanted stray afterthought during this boom tube crisis.

Alex adjusted her gun holster to make sure the lock was on properly.  While she was on security detail, it gave her great pleasure to make Lord uncomfortable at whatever opportunity she had.  But she didn’t need to have any accidents or opportunities with him; and she knew he had a way with weapons.

The elevator opened with a professional ping and before her gaped to the Lord Technologies lab. A number of people were wandering around the R&D floor, they looked highly stressed. But not nearly as weary as Maxwell did in his little glass fish-tank.

She cut her way quickly through the inconsequential worker bees and straight to Lord’s development office. She didn't need to be close to see him stewing in frustration; he was hunched over a light table with that oh-so-telling angry furrow. He ripped a whole drawing sheet off of the table and threw it into the printer.  It didn't seem very satisfying.

“Where are we with that prototype?” Alex demanded, starting off purposefully confrontational. 

To her satisfaction, the inventor whirled upon her with barely restrained anger, “you'll get whatever I give you. And it would go faster if I didn't have the DEO clinging to my back.”

“Let me remind you,” and here came her favorite words to string together for him, “this is your fault.”

He rendered her for a red-faced moment, spitting mad, before turning back to his computer and revisiting the schematics again. She saw him angry very rarely; more often now than when she first met him. Maybe she was just getting better at sorting through his deceptive cool. 

“It would be a lot better if you and your lackeys just left all your negative energy outside and out of my lab.”

“Well, tough shit,” Alex countered. “It's not like I want to be here to annoy your ass. Supergirl and Superman are out in a war machine keeping back an entire alien army, the Manhunter is at command center, and no one else is going to protect you from another setback. So it looks like we're stuck.”

“And you think **you** can protect me?” He turned upon her with a look of anger and desperate abandon in his eyes; so much so that she wasn't sure if she should be alarmed. To some extent, she liked when he squirmed; but this expression was wholly new on him. She saw an unbridled fear, one unmasked by cynicism and conceit and sly. “You can barely protect yourself!”

“You’re terrified,” she didn't mean to make that observation aloud. She was just so taken off guard by such an emotion on the generally collected tycoon. 

At her soft voice, he whirled back like he was struck. He might not have realized it himself. It took him half a second to collect his heart and return to the task at hand.

Apokolips took a toll on everyone, but no one could really know what Granny Goodness might have done to Lord specifically when he was isolated in their lab.

“Well you should have just left the mother box alone—“

“You don't think I fucking know that, Agent Denvers?” he bit his words hard, “you think I would have opened it knowing I'd get kidnapped by crazy harpies on the planet of living death?”

“You knew it opened a portal to Apokolips when you took it from us. Why the hell did you even try to tinker with it.”

“I'm curious? I’m stupid? I make mistakes that could annihilate my planet? Are those the things you want to hear from me? Would that make you feel superior to me?”

“What happened to you on Apokolips?”

“Nothing happened to me,” he bellowed, eyes hollow with darkness. His knuckles white from his vice grip on the drawing table. 

“Mr. Lord,” Alex reached out to rouse him from the strange stall that he had found himself in.  He was staring into the empty space before him like a moving horror picture played before his eyes.  The moment she touched him she could feel his energy: dark and trembling.  Her hand broke through his aura and it was like she flipped a switch.  She has barely felt the flesh of her fingertips meet the back of his arm and he sprung like a trap. 

He flung around his broad hand hitting her with such force that her whole arm stung. He had lost his own footing and staggered back tripping over a box of sample parts. He fell into the desk without so much of a hint of his usual grace and poise.

**“** Okay.” Alex could see he wasn’t doing well, “pack it up. We're moving all of this to the facility.”

“You can't just pick me up and move me, like I'm a table lamp.”

“I can, Mr. Lord. And I am.” She radioed her squad and expected them any second. “And you need to pull yourself together. You're falling apart.”

“You don't know anything.”

“Damn it, Lord,” She was at her wits end with him, “whatever they did to you back there, you have to put it aside for just the next hour. One god damned hour. Fix the closer, seal the boom tube, save the day, and then _maybe_ you can go ahead and have yourself a little mental breakdown. We just can't afford it right now.”

He glared at her with such ire.

She wondered if she might need to pull her gun on him.  But it was at that moment the extraction team appeared on the scene.  Things were packed in a hurry they were whisked away back to the DEO facility. Lord was at an obvious loss for words. 

It might have been too soon after they had rescued him from the alien planet for them to reasonably expect anything useful out of him.  He was in good physical shape when he returned to earth; she had thought he would walk off his shock. It seemed he had. Seemed wrong, apparently. 

He could stop the world from mind controlling space invaders, fancy alien bombs and still have the mental suave of a cat.  Alex finally drew his upper limit at ‘being abducted and held prisoner on a war world’.

_Good to know._

“We need you,” Alex implored. She exaggerated a bit, but not much. “Come on Max.”

There was a hot loaded silence that rested between them. Filled with electricity and so much tension it would have sung if it was plucked. She was wearing him down, she could see the semblance of his old, collected, self ebb back into his eyes. Of course, it was then the unit decided to come through the office door and of course Lord shot up like any movement was a threat. 

“Back off a sec,” she ordered the team, taking a breath to compensate for the one they stole from her (barging in like that). She stepped toward the brunet with one hand in front of her.  “Just, everybody take it slow.”

His eye darted down at her other hand and she only just realized it was instinctively hovering over her gun. She lifted it away slowly, raising both hands upturned to the inventor. She watched his features carefully, she could see his thoughts on his brow.

“Don't treat me like a fucking child,” he growled low and quietly. 

“No one is doing that, Lord.” She said, “the past years, you've proven to be capable and resourceful and, as much as you know I hate to admit it, invaluable to the team.” When he didn't react, she pushed in further, “we can't do this without your help. We couldn't do any of this without your help.”

As he deliberated, he swallowed. She didn't know if he was even aware of it. But it was a strangely moving sort of action. Subtly vulnerable, subtly unsure. For a second, that bad-boy desire locked a hold on her and she wanted to tell him she was going to be there for him.  It was moments like this when she did feel that unfortunately powerful attraction. If there wasn't as much history between them, she would have acted on it by now. 

He just looked so defeated. 

Her hands finally meet his, reaching out and slipping her fingertips into the heat of his palms. She led his heavy hands out from under him, his arms lifting at the very suggestion of her movement. 

He was drawn out of that corner just then, struggling between embracing her acceptance and rejecting her outright.  When he couldn't decide, she slid more of her hands gingerly into his, resting her fingertips so they traced along the length of his.  His broad fingers just barely separating and her own cold fingers slipping so naturally between them. It was torture, how well they fit together.

When they touched, palm to palm, an uncomfortably intense connection shook through both of them and shuddering, he withdrew his hands back to his chest. Rubbing the inside of his palms with his thumbs, he turned the room and said, “I'll need the laptop and the original motherbox. And for God’s sake, please do not unplug the servers.”

“Max,” she started, trying to get him to look at her, “Mr. Lord.”

“I'm coming with you, what more do you want?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she said, completely honestly. One look into his soulful brown eyes and it was clear he was not. 

“I'm fine.” He said, and he retreated back to his desk to get his laptop. His hands still wringing as he walked. 

\--oo00OO00oo--

When the whole world rejoiced, Alex found a spare second to cool her breath. Kara, J’onn and Clark were on their way back from the rift now, a clean up team was already dispatched to handle the aftermath. 

She'd get a casualties count in a few hours. 

And it wasn't like she hasn't been itching to find out where Lord had slipped off to before the final hour. She found him in an empty hex-cell, sitting on the bench resting his lips on his teepeed fingertips. He was shaking a knee and breathing so heavily that she could see his chest heaving. 

She knocked and leaned into the room door waiting for a reaction. He barely looked up at her, and then continued contemplating in his isolated chamber. 

Maybe he felt at home in the prison cell. 

“Your modifications worked.” She stepped into the room and to the cell’s open Plexiglas door.  “Superman pushed back the last parademon and Supergirl severed their boom tube to this world.  Closed the portal with your help.” It was three steps to the base of the cell platform, standing, she was eyelevel to him sitting.

“They know we exist now. They'll start working on a new connection right away.”

“You’re not going to gloat about your achievements?” she backed off when she saw him close his eyes and fight a shameful furrow. “You did good out there.”

“I fucked up in the first place.”

Alex couldn't sugar coat it, and despite her best efforts, she eeked out a, “yeah.”

“I keep fucking up. Time and time again, and it just keeps getting worse.”

“Well, you can generally fix it.”

“One day I won't be able to just fix it, huh?” he said, his voice hollow and quiet. “I want a safer world and I do everything I can to fix these problems. But I keep on finding these THINGS and I keep wanting to just fix them.”

Alex took ‘things’ to mean mother boxes, red kryptonite, matrix, manifests, myriad… those kinds of things.

“I'm sick of being the bad guy. I'm not a fucking bad guy… I just can't stop.”

“You're not a bad guy, Max.” Alex sat on the bench next to him and leaned on her leg, “opportunistic, maybe.  Curious, definitely. A bit idiotic…”

He gave her a sort of bitterly perplexed brow raise. 

“--but you're not a bad guy.”

It was probably easier to think that way when no one around you supported you. Him against the world.  Loved by the public, yet known to none of them. _‘That’s a very lonely way to live’. ‘you have no idea’._

He sighed and racked his fingers through his hair. There was a huge chance that he didn't really believe her words. She wasn’t sure if she cared.

“What happened to you on Apokolios?”

“I don't want to talk about it,” he said. 

“It's eating at you. You always bounce back from things like. I've never seen you shell up this way before. You're always so strong –“

“I said, I don't want to talk about it,” he barked. There was a fire in his voice and a worry lighting his eyes. 

“Well if you have to, then you have to,” she snapped. “You have to tell someone.”

“I can handle it myself.”

“Bullshit,” she called it whenever she saw it. 

“Just leave me alone.”

“I'm not going to leave you alone,” she retorted. “You don't have to be alone. I'm not going to let you continue thinking you are by yourself. Because you're not.”

“I don't trust you,” he said, turning straight to her. “You don't even trust me.”

“But I'm still here with you,” she said.  “I'm still here for you.”

“Why?” he demanded. She looked at him and adjusted her description of his voice.  “Why?” he implored. 

There were a lot of reasons.  A lot that she really couldn't explain. There was that moment when his eyes were lit up by the display board in his office.  The moment he first slipped up and exposed his lonely heart.  The cheeky smile he gave her when she arrested him the first time.  The way he solved problems, and created answers. The way he laughed when she tried to palate escargot caviar. Or even the brief second when they thought they were going to die, side by side: hand in hand. 

But most importantly, she wanted to be there for him because he understood what it felt like to be lonely, the way she was lonely. Because she need him to be there for her too.

Without a word she reached in for a kiss, leading with her chin and meeting him swiftly and perfectly on the lips.  His mouth parted for a split second, most likely by sheer reaction, and she could taste his bitter sweetness on the barely wet portion of her touch.  His own breath was warm and wanting, reaching in despite himself.  He pulled back shocked, lips still parted as if hungry for more.

The slight smek that broke their connection rung in both of their ears. 

He smelled like musk. And it was powerfully intoxicating.

“Alex.”

_Yeah, that was a pretty fucking terrible idea._ She was acing and longing, and it was a really tiny kiss. Her stomach was heavy, her toes tingled. She didn't need to know her body wanted him as much as it did. Her life was full of secrets, and orders, and responsibilities. She couldn't afford to be in any kind of relationship that wasn’t privy to her secret life: she couldn't (and didn't want to) date anyone in her chain of command. Lord really was just the first eligible bachelor in her life since she started at the DEO and she wasn't about to be desperate. 

She had friends, family, a superhero sister who loved her; how could she complain she was lonely? How could she even think he could relate to her?

“forget it,” she muttered, embarrassed and a lot more exposed than she felt comfortable with. She got up to leave with swift and sure steps toward the door. 

“No,” he replied leaping from his seat and catching her desperately at the wrist. He swooped in, crashing into her ungracefully, locking her body into his shape and ramming his need into her breath. His kiss wasn't like hers. Hers had been reserved: hers had been, however shortly, planned. 

His kiss was an SOS, a reaction to her actions and deeply urgent. He pulled at her soul hoping to get something from out of her, and she had something to give. She wasn't much smaller than him and he knew that she could topple him in a heartbeat. He took this notion that he was still standing as a sign that she wanted this; whatever this was.

When he felt her tongue move between them, his whole body shut down. He gathered her deeply into his heat and drank up her lust, not realizing how much he had coveted it.

They fit perfectly.

He hated how much they fit. 

“Ahem,” it was loud and obnoxious. Alex and Max yanked apart; heart in throat. They stood like deer in the headlights as Lucy, with her particularly scowling RBF rose a skeptical eyebrow at the unsolicited couple.  “Supergirl and the Manhunter are over star city now. She just radioed in. Thought you should know.”

“Yup,” Alex said stiffly, marching off the hex-cell platform.  “On it. Thanks Lucy.” She wiped her lower lip with the back of her hand as she went back into the ops room. 

The Lane stood at the door waiting till agent Denvers passed, smiling not so discreetly at Lord’s crotch, which so happened to be just below her eye level. He looked down only completely mortified to find the very clear outline of his erection along the leg of his pants.  He was so hot from the passion of that kiss… maybe she wouldn't notice how red he was blushing for being called out. 

Too slowly, Lane turned toward the hallway and sauntered smugly out of the cell block after Denvers. Lord took this opportunity to reach in and unceremoniously tuck himself under his belt.  He pulled the front of his shirt out for good measure then tried to gather himself enough to walk out there with some dignity.

Jonn was in his human form overseeing the loading of Fury into a suspension chamber, Lucy was handing him notes. Alex and Supergirl were hugging by the monitors, Alex brushing Kara’s hair away from her face as if she were inspecting a school yard bruise.  When she found nothing, Alex took both of Kara’s hands in hers and they continued to talk.

_So she did that for everyone._

He felt the ghost of her touch on his hands. It resonated along his whole body.  And he was completely aware that he was sucking in his gut to make room. 

“heard what you did,” J’onn said, approaching Lord as Lucy watched knowingly in the background. _God, that bitch can't keep her mouth shut_. He was starting to get hot again.  “We couldn't have done it without you.”

For a split second, the inventor was turned for a loop.

J’onn Jonzz clapped a large black hand on his shoulder and continued, “just next time, Try not to mess with the alien tech.”

“The motherbox,” said Lord, the moment he realized it. He nearly fainted. 

Lucy gave him a snide smirk then turned away with the prisoner. 

J’onn looked over his shoulder then back at Lord with a probing glance. Max couldn't help but squirm. He knew the truth, Lucy or not, there weren't any secrets Lord could keep from this man. None. 

But J’onn let him go without any kind of drill. 

_Damn mind reading Martians._ “I hate this place,” he muttered. But even as he did say that, he took one look at Alex’s face as she smiled so purely with her sister, and he decided that was not true. 

\--oo00OO00oo--

 Alex wasn't sleeping at 4 am in the morning when Lord decide to bang on her apartment door.

She pretended to be though, she was dressed the part in her black silk slip and oversized cotton bathrobe. She answered the door with her gun in her hand and the most ‘annoyed voice’ she could muster. 

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, only letting him in so far as the narrow hallway. 

Lord was a mess.  He hasn't changed since she left him at the DEO. He had lost his suit at some point, his shirt was entirely untucked and the top two buttons were undone.  He had his scowl on his face; one she couldn't decide was made for her or specifically for something else. He looked almost feral, with his usually scruffy chin looking particularity unruly. Dark circles around his wide brown eyes. His hair barely out of his face. 

He was angry about something, but it wasn't particularly clear about what until he tried to speak. 

“What we did back at the DEO. With the-“ he tried to say making out,  but he couldn't seem to form the words without his hands,  “how we—in the—“

“For Pete’s sake,” she moaned. She got it.  “When we kissed.”

He glowered at her as if upset she found the words before he did. “That cannot happen again.”

“Are you being serious, right now?” she asked, incredulously. She lowered her gun just a fraction of an inch. “This couldn't wait for a conjugal visit?”

“I'm serious Denvers. I can't think straight when you're in my--” he grimaced and didn't finish that thought.  “It meant nothing. It was a moment of weakness and it's not going to happen again.”

“Alright already,” not that it wasn't already playing in her brain.  The thought of his warm, firm lips and that need and how hot it made her. Forced to think about it now; the whole thing made her legs runny. “What makes you think it's going to happen again?”

“It can't,” he said, licking his lips. “I mean, it's not going to happen again.”

He really needed to stop wetting his skin if he really didn't want her jumping his bones. The more he forced her to think about if she wanted him, the more she actually wanted him. It was never a good tactic to make her forget something, by telling her she couldn't have it. “Never.“ Tough it half came out as a question because she half wondered about his resolve. 

“Never,” he confirmed, lust upon his breath.

This time it was her turn to lick her lips, she couldn't god damned help it.  He was oozing desire and she was reacting to him as if she had no control of her faculties. And as he stood there breathlessly in her doorframe, it became obvious that he didn't have control either. 

Whatever it was he was saying, he was lying. He was not to be trusted. He was not to be believed. Want was written in every feature on him, and his barely contained desire shone through his skin like a beacon. 

She could fucking smell him. 

In a split second, neither wanted to be left alone. And they knew it. They were sure of it. 

Alex let her gun fall to the foyer table with a loud clatter and Max filed up her space with a needful swoop. They met, lips to lips, breathlessly and hungrily. She felt him stagger under her lean and he groped for support.  He was a mess in so many ways and she wanted it.

He struggled to reach for the door, she did it for him, slamming it closed much too loudly for friendly neighbors at 4 am in the morning. He struggled to wrestle his hands under her robe, finding silk, smoothing it along the creases around her spine.  She shrugged of the cotton before he got tangled in it, afraid he'd rip the seams. In the meantime, she felt the shape of his ribs from under the cashmere shirt.

He sucked in sharply when she ran her nails against his side.  He had propped her up against the corridor wall, dodging shoes, tripping over carpet, she finally came to rest on the back of her couch seat something actually solid to lean on.

He covered her with kisses, his broad hands finding sensitive spots; the nape of her neck, the curve of her naked shoulders, silk covered ribs and barely veiled breasts.

She ran her legs up the inside of his thigh till he groaned, wedged himself between her to stop her probing. It only barely helped, she was fighting with his buttons, accidentally ripping the last one she didn't realize she missed.  It skittered across her wood floor somewhere.  He has a light trail of fur on his upper chest, he has another thin trail just above his navel.  She brushed it transfixed. But only as distracted a he was by the supple six pack under her silk slip and nipples, pointed sharply through the thin night wear.

By now, wandering hands even above her clothes, he must have realized she wasn't wearing any underwear.  And what was not more than a minute ago (their promise that they would never kiss again) a new promise exploded. 

She was going to take him. She was way too far gone to stop now. She could feel her body dripping along the inside of her leg. 

She managed to pick at the belt, the buckle jungled like a diner bell. She felt him buck under her in anticipation and she thought he'd faint. She struggled with his to button and he shrugged off his shirt as best he could while crushing his lips into her breath. 

She had to pull him out of his pants, and by touch alone, she realized he was not a disappointment.  Guiding him was too easy, and he found her heat in a second. Sopping wet, he barely needed to push, though he did with great abandon.

He rowed her apart in a swoop, hit the back and bowed at the deepest part of her with inches still to give.  He groaned fully aching. Pulling back, sucking skin with him. She could feel him moving inside of her, she could feel when his bulbous head caught her entrance. 

“Jezus,” she hissed when he plunged back into her heat. Even deeper than before. He was panting now, his arms shaking, his knees rocked against the back of the couch. He pulled and thrust again, this time his hips met hers and the moment his carved abs touched her sensitive clit she clamped down with such strength that she nearly squeezed the life out of him.

“Fuck” he whispered, half realizing he really should be using protection, half giving no shit. He was thrusting was involuntary, wondering how this could be so good. 

He had grabbed her by the waist and hefted her body to a better angle throwing her weight on him like she were a rag doll. She oozed over him and he wasn’t sure if he could last long. 

Unexpectedly, she pushed him down onto the carpet and as he lay face up on her floor, she mounted him.

He wasn’t one take the sight of a woman lightly; he definitely had seen his fair share.  But something about the way the brunet vixen aimed herself on him and lowered herself on his need completely floored him. 

The moment they touched he was enthralled. And with each wet and dripping inch she gave him he lost an inch of his mind. She was completely over him, the process half hidden by her black slip.  But it wouldn't have mattered. Sex never felt like this before today. 

She ground her hips into his and he could barely contain himself. “Jezus you're huge,” she mentioned, trying to maneuver.

The phrase alone made him halt.  He really didn't want an accident. He held her still, tried to calm himself.  He didn't expect her to lift the slip and peek a show off what it was she was really doing. 

He was hilt deep in her, and a creamy kind of warmth soaked him through to the bone.  The very sight of him inside of her was unbearable.  He jerked, his abs working hard to control what was left of him. 

Alex had other ideas. And again, without warning, she took off the slip on a single motion. 

Over her head, across the room. 

He lost every reservation in him.  She was perfectly shaped, dark sharp nipples on perfectly rounded breasts. Her ribs and her abs, and her perfect fucking belly button.  As if he hasn't had enough time to recover from the sheer sight of her, she started to rock, deliberately at first, she was hitting a place deep within her that she seemed to know well. He tried to hold back afraid of ending it, when it became clear she was close to coming. 

He could feel it in her timing, her breath. Her very insides indicated it.  He just needed to…

“Shit,” he bit. _Oh, too late._   She came wetly and repeatedly on top of him, and it completely blew his mind. He was involuntarily emptied all inside of her, without warning without any time to react. 

She was still squeezing when he tried to pull out from under her.  He was still coming when he finally did.  Sweet warm streaks laced his shaking abs. He had never released as exhaustively as that.  He took a second to catch his breath and tried to comprehend what had just happened. 

She lay along the length of him, breath heaving; head upon his heart. The weight of her reassured him.  After a second, she said:

“So. Never again?”


End file.
